


Five Times Yuri Noticed Otabek (and One Time Otabek Noticed Him Back)

by splendid_sun



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DJ Otabek Altin, M/M, Otabek and Yuri both live in Russia, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Pining Yuri Plisetsky, Time Skips, professional skater Otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendid_sun/pseuds/splendid_sun
Summary: Something winced within him. As if.. as if he had seen those dark eyes somewhere. And that skin.. yes, it was tanned. As if they had already met.. somewhere in the place bathed in sunlight.





	Five Times Yuri Noticed Otabek (and One Time Otabek Noticed Him Back)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So I´ve always wanted to try these 5+1 Things so here I go :) I hope you´ll like it.  
> Please respect that characters may be a bit OOC - this is just my second attempt for OtaYuri and these two are for me MUCH harder to write than Victuuri. I just described the characters depending how I felt during writing. But I tried hard, believe me :)  
> Comments and kudos are always welcomed and I would greatly appreciate them.

I.

Yuri yawned. It was morning; early morning - at least for him - and weekend, moreover. They - that meant his mother, father and Yersi - were sitting at classic Sunday Mass, the priest sputtering his prayers quietly and the sun lazily illuminating people around him. Yuri´s eyelids closed for a second and he quickly opened them back up and sat straight again. He couldn´t miss the angry look of his mother, her pressed lips and barely audible sigh. Yuri winced and tried to pay attention again but that old man´s voice was just unbearable. Before he knew, he yawned again, this time his mouth opened so wide that he could even feel tears pushing from his eyes. Well, what do you expect from six-years old boy in a church.

"Yurochka!" hissed his mother angrily, but quiet enough not to cause attention. "I´ve told you before, no yawning in a church! Look at Yersi, how polite he is! Try to be more like him!"

Yuri frowned. He was already sick of hearing it all the time. Oh yes, Yersi, his older brother. Loved by everyone, hated by Yuri.

Yuri frowned again and rather shifted on hard wooden bench and transfered his sight elsewhere. Those beautiful windows will sure be more worthy of his attention.

He didn´t drop his sight from the painted glass until he was satisfied and only then, moved to another. But, attention of little boys is quite deciduous and before he knew, windows were suddenly not so attractive to Yuri anymore. He sighed but at least tried to pay attention in order not to angry his mother even more, and his keen eyes kept browsing the open space.

And then, just in the front, Yuri saw him. It was boy, older than him, probably; and his tanned skin drew Yuri´s sight like a magnet. The boy was fidgeting, constantly shifting from left to right, his dark hair bobbing by each of his move. Yuri noticed immediately that he too, is probably very bored; just like Yuri himself. He only saw him from profile; that boy´s face, handsome, bright and lively; that boy´s eyes, very, very dark, flying across the room and scanning everything and everyone. Yuri kept stretching his neck for a while but then boy´s father probably lost all of his patience and pulled him hard by his arm back to his side and kept holding him and preventing from turning his head on all directions.

Yuri sadly leaned on his own seat at the bench, his eyes darting to ground.

"Yurochka," big, heavy and rough hand covered his own, and Yuri´s sigh jumped up to the familiar, warm, dark-green eyes; so similar to his own. "Try to pay attention, okay?"

Well.

If it´s for his grandfather, Yuri will behave like a good child.

He would do anything for his _dedushka_.

Yuri nodded and again sat straight, looking at the priest and never let go of that large, warm palm.

 

II.

It was Yuri´s eight birthday and he couldn´t get more excited. His mother finally allowed him to try skating for the first time (Yersi has been going to the winter stadium for two years already, but who cares now, right?). Yuri had been watching figure skating in the television as far as he could tell and since his pleads started to become almost unbearable, his mother finally gave him her approval. It could be a perfect day but of course dad got sick and so Yuri was forced to spend it with Yersi.

Finally they got to the ice, Yuri carefully balancing on his brother´s old battered skates and trying hard not to rattle his teeth with cold. He threw an envious look on Yersi´s new, shiny skates. He got it for Christmas and was just about to try them for the first time.

"So, ready? I don´t have a whole day, Yura. The more we wait the more people will come here, ya know."

Yuri jumped from the tribune seat - he didn´t even noticed he was sitting, apparently - and looked at the ice. It looked.. inviting.

"Mhm," he nodded and finally came to the small doors that opened directly to the ice.

But then something whizzed by him at incredible speed and he yelped and dropped the door in surprise. Yuri narrowed his eyes and realized it was a _skater_. Professional, that was for sure. The rink was almost empty, five people tops and he was probably using it for training. Yuri opened up his mouth in awe unwittingly; a pirouette here, a spin there, even some simple jumps. That one should be a salchow, Yuri remembered it from the last championship he managed to watch by glimpse in the television. And that one, that´s definitely a toeloop. And that one-

"Yura? Are you going on the ice or not?"

Yersi´s voice somehow managed to reach his ears.

Yuri hissed impatiently. Screw Yersi, this was something he _always_ wanted to see it with his own eyes; something he could never manage to live through in the small city like this; something..

Something winced within him. As if.. as if he had seen those dark eyes somewhere. And that skin.. yes, it was tanned. As if they had already met.. somewhere in the place bathed in sunlight.

Yuri finally torn his eyes away from the boy and stepped aside from the doors, allowing another visitors to step on the ice.

"And now what? You chickened out or?" Yersi was watching him, his eyebrows almost lost in his fringe; and tapping his feet impatiently.

"Well you can stay here, if you want. I´m going to skate," he declared after a while and pushed Yuri aside.

The older boy turned back in surprise when he realized that Yuri is holding his sleeve firmly.

"Yersi," he almost whispered, "do you know that boy? You know, _that_ one over there?"

He slowly, almost hesitantly stretched his hand and pointed at the older boy who just managed to do another clean jump; his arms wide and eyes carefully darting onto ice watching his steps.

"Ah? That one? That´s Otabek, Otabek Altin. You didn´t recognize him? I thought you´re interested in skating. He won Junior Championship last year."

"He did?"

"Yeah. He´s a pro, Yura. You sure you hadn´t seen him in television before?"

Yuri slowly shook his head. It was true he was sick during the last championship and since he had fever, his mother didn´t allow him any distractions. He had to lie in bed for three long days before he got from the worst and since TV was only in kitchen.. well.

"Let´s go," Yuri gave Otabek one last look and then turned back to his older brother. "So we could became good skaters and get to compete with Otabek sometime!", he declared with determination of an eight-year old.

Yersi laughed.

"Well, there is still a long way before you, Yura. For starters, how about to learn how to skate properly?"

Yuri nodded and slid out of the small door, leaving them open. He carefully put his feet on the ice. It was strange feeling, but not uncomfortable. Definitely not uncomfortable.

 

III.

Yuri´s head was nodding uncontrollably, his eyelids closed, when the high-pitched tone of cello again woke him up. The fiddlestick was followed by piano, the pianist banging on the keys, flipping the paper sheets before him from time to time.

It wasn´t like Yuri didn´t like the music.. but not _this_ type of music.

He was eleven and boring to death sitting at the large oval room and listening to an obligatory classical music concert, like every other year. It was mandatory- the chairman desperately tried to fetch in some culture between the pupils, but it was futile. The kids hated the music and the parents hated the chairman for dragging out ticket money from their always half-empty wallets.

Loud clapping around him pulled Yuri from his slumbering and he winced. He managed to get hidden between Sergei and Oleg, both of them large enough to cover him before keen eyes of the teacher (who was reminding him his own mother unpleasantly). Yuri grabbed his coat and started to look around, ready to leave. Much to his disappointment, nobody besides him moved and Oleg pulled him back to the seat.

"What´cha doin´, moron. It´s just first half."

Yuri let the coat and grabbed a pamphlet hanging on the chair before him instead.

Indeed, there it was. This was some Moskowszki, apparently and now it should follow some.. ugh, it was hard to read. Saint-Saëns, Introduction and Rondo Capricioso.

Yuri threw the paper back on the empty chair in front of him and sighed. Sure, everything is better than sat in the classroom and learning stuff, but..

He could think of _thousands_ other things to do.

The clapping silenced and the violinist fixed her dress. There were bright red with deep neck-line and he arms were bare. Yuri started to wonder if she wasn´t cold. It was still March, after all.

The woman slightly nodded to the pianist and the man flipped the page, leaned forward and gently pressed the keys. The violinist started to play as well. Yuri gave his attention for the first notes. It wasn´t bad, but it just wasn´t for him.

Just like when he was kid, he rather focused his attention to the people around him. Both Sergei and Oleg looked probably just as bored as he himself was; and the other kids was more less the same. Some of them were listening, but the most just whispered quietly, heads leaned down and phones illuminating their faces. Yuri looked at the second half of the room and he was offered the same view.

Well, almost.

Far more before Yuri, was sitting a dark-haired boy, his back straight as a ruler, his head slightly, very slightly bobbing to the rhythm. Yuri managed to see a glimpse of a tanned skin and is that even possible? Could it be.. Otabek Altin?

It was like yesterday Yuri was eight again; he went first time skating with Yersi; he noticed Otabek and burnt his face to the brain. Every single detail. He didn´t know why. In fact, three years later, he still couldn´t answer that question.

Yuri also vaguely remembered sitting in a church - he was just a kid back then - and noticing very similar dark-haired boy. But he didn´t remember much from the time he was little. Mostly just times spend with his _dedushka_.

It would be utmost strange, running into Otabek just like that - or wouldn´t it be? Was this just a coincidence? But something inside Yuri moved; something was telling him that that boy - was he fourteen? Fifteen? Yuri was never good at guessing - why _couldn´t_ he be Otabek?

But why bother with guessing, when you can check it out in person. Yuri remembered the skater´s face well enough to recognize him.

He took his coat folded on his knees, and shoved it into Oleg´s hands.

"Hey, watch this for me for a minute, will ya? Must check something."

Oleg reluctantly took Yuri´s coat on his own thighs and glared at him.

"Where´re you goin´?"

"To sit with Vitali for a sec. Be right back, kay?"

"With _Vitali_?" Oleg´s eyes were pure confusion. Yuri wasn´t surprised. Vitali was.. unique and Yuri was definitely first one from the class ever to sit next to the ever-smiling boy _willingly._ Before Oleg could add anything else, Yuri smoothly slipped through several rows of chairs and confused classmates until he finally found that empty chair he was aiming for.

Like a ghost, he appeared just two seats next to Otabek. Unfortunately his face was partially hidden by another kid. It was an older boy and Yuri didn´t recognize him. He was probably from other school. And that was probably also the reason why he had never noticed Otabek in Yuri´s school before. He let out a long breath while realizing this discovery.

"Yuri?" he heard from his left side and impatiently turned to the voice.

The boy was smiling at him, his big blue eyes wide and surprised and so, so childish.

"Oh hey Vitali," he leaned to the boy and immediately noticed the immutable scent of sweat. Yuri softened his voice and continued. "Just came here since I.. ugh.. couldn´t hear the music well in the back, ya know."

Vitali nodded, his mouth still open and his eyes still incredibly wide. The music changed into the lively, quicker tones and Yuri gave the boy one small uncertain smile before turning back to the right. Without hesitation, he leaned forward to get a better look.

It was Otabek.

Yuri had no doubt about it.

It was Otabek; Otabek - the professional skater, Otabek - the _star;_ yet here he was, sitting at the mandatory classical music concert; eyes closed, his feet gently tapping on the floor, quiet enough not to disturb the performance. Yuri´s jaw almost dropped when he saw that tanned skin, those smooth lips; that peaceful face with gently closed eyes under neat eyebrows.

He was _listening._

Yuri found back his composure and leaned back to the seat.

Well, if _this_ music is what Otabek likes.. Yuri would give it a try. Why not, anyway? There was nothing to lose; he could only gain.

He ignored Vitali and similar to Otabek, closed his eyes and tried to focus more on the notes than on the boy gazing at him.

The quick tones shifting into the calmer ones; the violin once gentle, once strong vibrating the air, supported by the piano.. It wasn´t bad. It was definitely nod bad. He kind of actually liked it and that surprised Yuri equally as the presence of Otabek Altin just couple meters from him.

Maybe if he could reach his hand, he could touch him.

Maybe he should try that, too.

For a moment there, Yuri wished that he and Otabek were the only ones in the entire room.

 

IV.

"It´s _him_ , I told ya," declared Oleg full-throated and stretched his neck to better see the second half of the coffeeshop.

"Shit Oleg, not so loud," hissed Yuri and pulled the boy back. "He´ll notice!"

"So? I want an autograph," said Sergei and too started to gaze towards that direction but bar desk was blocking his view.

Yuri sighed and crouched more into the leather seat.

 

Him, Oleg and Sergei decided to stop after school in small cafeteria and rest a bit - which meant chatting and play mobile games. He could do that at home, too; but his mother wasn´t excited about phone games at all and strictly insisted on the "no phone during learning and dining" rule. It was pain in the ass, at least according to Yuri´s opinion.

So they came, sat, order coffee - got declined since they were just a bunch of kids, after all - and finally the waitress brought them a beetroot juice instead. They didn´t complain - no kid or teenager would probably complain about big glass of fresh juice landed on the table.

And, several minutes after arrival, Yuri immediately noticed that in the back, probably four or five tables from them, was sitting none other than Otabek himself. He was wearing worn-out leather jacket, his hair were waxed - probably, Yuri couldn´t get every detail if he didn´t want to catch unwanted attention - and looked hot as hell. Yuri started to feel some strange warm within him; like little bubbles forming in his stomach, trying to get out. Before he could calm himself, his cheeks started to redden already and both Oleg with Sergei were keen enough to notice what was going on.

 

"I´m going to ask him," said Sergei and stood up.

"Me too," Oleg followed him immediately.

"What? Are you crazy?" Yuri was suddenly pissed and he wasn´t even sure _why_ \- it wasn´t like Otabek was _his_ special person and nobody else could came closer to him, but.. He run his fingers into his hair reflexively and tried to suppress the heat in his cheeks. Shit. He was sweating as hell. His body started to get fucking weird lately and he was wondering whether it will end some day. Yuri secretly hoped it would be soon.

"What about you? Are you going´?"

Oleg turned to him while Sergei was looking for some piece of paper and pen.

"I.."

 

Yuri wasn´t sure _what_ does he want, exactly. He wanted to speak with Otabek and smiled at Otabek and touch Otabek; and at the same time he realized very well that he is just a small kid compared to him, just an average skater and nothing on him was probably interesting enough to catch Otabek´s attention.

He finally shook his head and remain seated, trying to ignore the disappointment stinging achingly somewhere in his inside.

"No," he said although his heart was screaming the opposite.

"As you wish," Oleg tugged his shoulder and turned back to Sergei. "You found anything?"

"Yes, here is paper and pencil.. had to be enough.. or should we ask for pen at the bar?"

"Nah, fuck it. Let´s go,"

Both boys turned their backs to Yuri and slowly approached to the booth Otabek was sitting.

Yuri almost broke his neck while desperately trying to see Otabek´s face through Sergei´s back. What is he saying? What are they saying? Will he sign that paper for them?

When he heard Sergei´s timid "Spasiba", Yuri immediately sat straight, put both his hands on the cold glass and tried to look very much uninterested. In a minute, both boys were back again and even if Yuri didn´t want to believe it there was it, written with a red pencil on white, little bit crooked piece of paper:

Отабек Алтин

 

He saw instantly that the surname wasn´t written in Russian alphabet; it was similar, but still quite not the same.

Is he _not_ Russian?

That surprised Yuri and without thinking he grabbed the paper; took it closer to his eyes, flipped it over and over but it remained unchanged, only two words and nothing else. What was he thinking, anyway? That Otabek would address it to Oleg or Sergei personally?

"Hey," said Sergei and took back his paper in instant. "What´re doing?"

Yuri didn´t know. What was he doing? Was he looking for something?

"Did you-" he had to cough to clear his throat since it somehow went dry - "did you get one for me, too?"

"No, why?" asked Oleg, sat back and grabbed his glass with dark-pink fluid. "You said you didn´ want one, right?"

Yuri sunk deeper to his seat, the bitterness slowly spilling inside of his mouth. He gulped down - it didn´t help.

"If ya want, go get it yourself. Am I right, Seryozha?" Oleg laughed and Sergei joined him. They both quickly drank their juices, still admiring those few red letters scribbled by Otabek´s hand.

Yuri felt tears forming in his eyes uncontrollably and tried hard to suppress them.

Oleg was right.

He should go with them and he could get an autograph too. And it would be just his own. Otabek would looked at him; maybe also speak to him and maybe, just maybe, he would also smiled at him. Or at least in Yuri´s imagination, he would.

 

He should go.

He should stood up and got there.

 

Yuri kept sitting, fighting himself, split between urge to run and cry somewhere without curious eyes; and his desire to at least got a bit closer to Otabek. Just a little bit. If he could sit with Otabek side by side and breathing the same air with him, he would be perfectly happy.

Being fourteen was sure a difficult task. Sometimes, he felt like little kid, excited and open to try anything new. And sometimes, he felt much, much older. Like he did already experienced everything and in the end realized it wasn´t just as he imagined and stayed disappointed. Right now, Yuri wasn´t sure for how old he was feeling.

 

"Oh? He´s leaving already?" declared Sergei with a pouted lips, his neck stretched and eyes darting to the door.

Yuri´s sight quickly, frantically fell on the short, well-built figure of older boy walking down the street.

He felt his heart, his no longer childish and not yet adult heart, literally _fluttering_ in his chest as Otabek kept walking away from him. It almost hurt.

When the person he was looking on vanished from his eyesight, Yuri slowly leaned his head back against the seat; his fists clenching quietly, his nails burying deeply into the skin in the desperate attempt to transfer his frustration.

_Fuck._

_I am such an idiot._

 

V.

The music was loud. So loud, he couldn´t hear a word. Not that Yuri was complaining about. Back in Volsk, he could only _dream_ about visiting this kind of club. He was fresh eighteen and enjoying his freedom by its fullest.

One shot after another was poured down his throat and he just finished his third cigarette. Not that this was the first time he ever tried something like this - _definitely_ not; but being away from his sleepy hometown was kind of.. refreshing. Shortly after his birthday Yuri packed few of his belongings, successfully managed to avoid the mandatory military service and instead started the university. Well, he will - in half a year. Yuri yelled from pure joy, kept smashing his body to the rhythm, sweat rolling down his temples.

After another glass of vodka, he needed to slow down a bit.

"Alexei! I´m going outside for a sec, okay?" he managed to squeeze to his roommate. Alexei nodded and kept dancing, his movements too fast on Yuri´s suddenly tired eyes.

 

With a bang, the doors flew open and Yuri hissed by the coldness of the air filling his lungs. For a second there he felt like oxygen-intoxicated but the dizziness quickly faded away. He leaned with his back against the wall, lit up another cigarette and impatiently pushed away hairs spilling from his messy bun to his eyes. After coming to Moscow, Yuri managed to grew his hair longer. It looked pretty when trimmed correctly, but the early mornings and brushing were just a nightmare.

 

Yuri winced from his thoughts. He got lost in time and noticed in surprise that cigarette is almost burnt and he was standing in some side-alley. The ever present beats could be still heard through the wall as damped vibrations. Yuri tossed the stub away and while turning back to the door, he noticed a fancy motorbike standing not so far from him. It looked.. _cool_. Yuri never owned motorbike; but if he did, it would be totally like this one.

"Yuri? There you are!"

Alexei peeped from behind the door.

"Come back in, this DJ is really cool!" and dragged Yuri from the cold back to the heated, sweaty club.

Yuri reluctantly let Alexei to grab his sleeve and they both squeezed more towards in the front to get a better view.

The beats were already catchy as hell - and it was just about to get started.

"There he is!" Alexei pointed his hand up, yelling too loud.

Yuri narrowed his eyes, his sigh already a bit clouded of all that alcohol and thick air.

Suddenly some short figure in leather clothes stepped out to the podium and women around Yuri started to yell hysterically. He winced and hissed, annoyed by them.

When the light finally fell to the man, his heart skipped a beat.

 

The leather jacket with nothing except black tight undershirt beneath it. A huge headphones. The hair trimmed in undercut and under it, very dark and very deep eyes.

Yuri would recognize those eyes in between thousands of others.

And if he was by any chance reluctantly denying his crush on Otabek Altin till now; all barriers were lost in the moment the older man tossed his hands in the air and Yuri spotted totally badass fingerless gloves. His stomach twisted and he immediately felt a tension in his crotch.

 

He hasn´t seen Otabek in _years_.

 

Funny, how they always met, even after moving away from Volsk.

 

Or rather, what a coincidence.

 

So Otabek is _here_ , in the same city as Yuri, even in the same club.

 

And what to do about it?

 

Yuri closed his eyes, waited a moment for his breathing came back to normal and then opened them again. Otabek waited for shouting and whistling to come to end and then put his fingers on the board and the _real_ fun started.

 

The music hit Yuri like a hammer; it was something entirely different than he was used to, it was actually different from any other music he heard so far. It felt almost strange at first; but then people welcomed the tones with a yells of excitement and the crowd began to move almost unison, hustling Yuri from side to side, but he didn´t mind. He stayed still, eyes closed and was perceiving the music possibly through every pore in his skin; he let it drenched into him, until he memorized almost every tone from the set and then - just then - opened up his eyes.

From some reason, Yuri felt utmost satisfied and inside him settled a strange tranquility.

Perhaps _this_ is how Otabek felt so many years ago, at that cello concert.

 

Yuri had to smile at the memory how he almost flipped several chairs over, just to see if that boy was really Otabek.

He wanted to touch him _so_ badly, back then; but in the end he was glad he didn´t do it.

Since if he did that, Yuri would by all means found out that Otabek wasn´t just some ephemeral being, made by his illusions and desires. He was a living, breathing person from flesh and bones, just like him. His eleven-years old would be utterly crushed by that.

 

The music was probably coming to its end since people´s movements became gradually very erratic and Yuri hand to avoid couple elbows and knees. He distantly perceived his sweaty hair sticking to his cheeks and neck; the beats vibrating in his chest and Alexei dancing on his right side.

And Yuri?

Yuri himself felt like he had just achieved to swim through entire ocean; or to lift a mountain only with his pinkie. It was very new and quite ineffable feeling to him; yet it was strong and encouraging.

 

And then, at 10:23 PM, with Otabek´s music drifting up his veins, after six shots of vodka and two beers, Yuri came to a conclusion that it had to be _love._

Probably somewhere, somehow, in some point of his life, he fell in love with Otabek - and didn´t fully realize it till now.

 

Well, _wow_.

 

"Alexei, after this I think I´ll head to the flat already," Yuri tapped on his roommates shoulder and faked a yawn. The other man gave him a slightly confused look, but nodded and embraced him by his shoulders, still dancing, till the song quickly approached its end and ended with the last perfect, vigorous tone.

There was like five seconds of utmost silence and then madness broke at its fullest; everyone was either shouting, or clapping his hands in the air, or manifesting his satisfaction in trillion other ways.

"Otabek Altin!" Alexei shouted him in the ear. "Best DJ ever! He is the only reason why I´m here tonight!"

 

Yuri nodded.

The same went also for him.

But, probably in a different way.

 

He waited till Otabek climbed off the podium and then beckoned his head to say goodbye to his roommate and vanished from the crowd.

 

He told Alexei he was feeling dizzy from alcohol, but it was an open lie.

 

His head was spinning from entirely different reason and Yuri _knew_ it.

 

VI.

Yuri then started to visit that club on regular basis. Partly because of Otabek - okay, _mostly_ because of Otabek - but the music was good, drinks too and Yuri could dance till dawn. Then he just got a couple hours of sleep to get refreshed and was ready to go again.

He _loved_ to dance and if by any chance he could also see Otabek, too - well, that was just one hell of a night.

 

It was one of these nights when Yuri managed to found a place directly at the bar and exhausted, collapsed his body on the chair by ordering a glass of vodka. He just wanted to take a little break and then he could continue. Otabek wasn´t supposed to make a show tonight, so dancing had to be enough for him.

Yuri leaned forward and put his head on his lean, pale forearms; his breathing becoming stable gradually and his hair bun bobbing up and down by each breathe.

He barely noticed somebody else sitting on the next chair and only partially perceived the existence of another human being; Yuri´s eyes were closed and he wanted to keep them so.

Yuri had been waiting for his glass, his throat dry and chest sweaty, even under the little clothes he was wearing. Finally someone shoved him at his hands something cold and smooth and Yuri slowly moved, his fingers enveloping the glass.

He sat straight and opened up his eyes, gulping the shot down; when his sight felt to the left and he almost got a heart attack.

 

Otabek was sitting there and was looking at him as if Yuri was something particularly interesting.

 

Yuri winced and reflexively pull back a bit; only to realize that Otabek was smiling a bit, just _so_ , that one couldn´t say for sure if it´s not just trick of imagination. But Yuri was looking directly into Otabek´s warm, deep eyes and he _knew_ he was really smiling at him.

"And here I was wondering when you will finally woke up," said the older man and Yuri could swear Otabek´s lips widened a bit. "Can I invite you for something?" he beckoned his head to the bartender.

Yuri nodded, still somehow unable to form words and just kept watching the man sitting so, so close to him.

Otabek leaned closer to the bartender, shouted something at him through the music and showed two fingers in the air; the bartender nodded and returned to his job.

Yuri had to looked incredibly dull, probably; since when Otabek sat back and moved his sight to him once again, he looked kind of confused too.

"Sorry! Should have introduced myself before. I´m Otabek Altin, nice to meet you."

Otabek stretched his hand towards Yuri who somehow managed to reach and shake it, eyes still glued to the other man´s face.

Yuri felt Otabek´s bare fingers and covered palm and - God, it´s _those_ gloves - and just a quick idea of _those_ hands touching _his_ body made his knees weak.

 

Yuri took all of his strength to push away the dazzle.

He was dreaming about Otabek for _years_ \- and now he finally had a chance, while Otabek was sitting right next to him, his dark eyes confused and visibly concerned.

 

"Yuri Plisetsky," Yuri managed to say loud and clear, at least; and finally let Otabek´s hand go.

 

Otabek shifted and handed him over one of two glasses that just landed on the bar desk. For a second there, he looked a bit relieved. Both man pick up their glasses and gulped it down in instant. Otabek managed to catch bartender´s sight and with a gesture he ordered other two shots.

 

Finally Otabek started conversation once again (and Yuri was grateful for that).

"I have seen you here before. I mean in the club."

 

Yuri winced involuntarily because this information alone moved all his little universe.

_He did?_

 

He probably said it out loud since Otabek laughed - it was short, genuine laughter and Yuri was now sure he was blushing at this point of time - and then leaned more onto the back of the chair and continued.

"Well, yeah! Usually when I look down from my board I see only mass of people, everyone is dancing, jumping, yelling.. and there you were, standing still in all of that chaos, just standing, and nothing else! How could I _not_ notice you?"

Yuri gulped down, throat suddenly very dry. His sight moved to Otabek´s face only to meet that slight smile again, dancing sensually on his lips.

 

He took a deep breath.

 

"I," Yuri paused a little, "actually know you, already."

 

"Well, I am quite popular in here," Otabek shrouded his shoulders and hand him over another shot.

 

"No, I mean.. I know you back from Volsk. I saw you there skating," added Yuri and kept clenching his fingers to that cold glass. He watched as Otabek´s face involuntarily snatched away a bit, his sight fell on the left and stayed there for a moment until his eyes finally cleared and he looked back at him.

"Yeah, I used to practice there on winter stadium.. my, that was long ago. I was still a kid, back then," he declared and drank his shot.

"Well, me too," replied Yuri and finally managed to smile a bit in reply. "Do you still do it? Figure skating, I mean," he carefully added, transferring his sight from the pure liquid at Otabek again. Yuri just now realized that he should be hearing a music, too, since they were still in the club; but it just vanished together with the rest of people. It was just him and Otabek now.

"What? Oh no, not anymore. I quit two years ago. After I joined the senior league the stress started to be unbearable. I decided it would be for the best if I retire. I moved in here and started as a DJ. Now I only skate from time to time or to teach kids some basics if their parents ask me to."

Yuri nodded and felt the glass under his fingers started to get warmer. He noticed that Otabek was again looking deep in thoughts until he looked back at him and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, you just got me thinking about Volsk again. Although small, it was quite a nice place, wasn´t it? You lived there too?"

"Yes," answered Yuri simply. He put the glass back on the desk - the alcohol was now too warm for drinking, after all.

"What about you, Yuri?" asked Otabek unexpectedly and Yuri shivered hearing his name from that mouth. "Do you skate too? When you said you saw me on the winter stadium.."

"I was learning by myself, actually," admitted Yuri. "But I somehow got stuck on double salchow. I need somebody to show me how to do it properly," he laughed shortly. "I´m kidding, of course. In fact, I wasn´t skating since I moved in," he finished and immediately thought he really should return to ice sometimes.

They both sat in silence for a couple minutes, Otabek scanning his face but his own remained illegible. But Yuri didn´t mind - since Otabek´s eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"I love your music," finally flew out of him and he almost slapped himself from embarrassment. Fuck, now it will look like he was just some kind of crazy fan.

But Otabek actually shifted more comfortably on the chair and nodded his head, obviously pleased to hear that.

"I´m glad," he said loudly, probably trying to outshout he music. "I´m always happy when somebody comes and tells me he likes what I´m doing. It´s not like I would quit the job even if people weren´t coming to me - I do, what I do and what I _want_ to do, but it´s nice when someone appreciates it. It feels more meaningful that way," he implied and started to look around. Yuri noticed his ever present jacket and couple drops of sweat on his forehead. Just now he started to realize how hot it has always been in the club.

"Say Yuri, do you want to get out of here?"

Yuri nodded and stood up without realizing it.

Otabek gestured to the bartender and paid up for the drinks; then beckoned to Yuri and quickly lead him to the side-exit (Yuri didn´t even know there was a one). Suddenly they found himself standing on the sidewalk in the fresh night air.

"Finally! There was fucking hot in there!" cursed Otabek and wiped away his forehead. "This way, Yuri," he pointed out and Yuri followed him, watching his back and fighting the urge to touch Otabek at least once in a lifetime from his own will. He wanted to do it since he saw that handsome dark-haired boy listening to the soft chello and fast piano so _much_ carefully so he wouldn´t miss even one single note.

"Say, Otabek," flew out of him before he could stop himself, "do you remember that school concert? The one when they played Saint-Saëns?"

Otabek stopped, looked back at him, his eyebrows furrowed a bit and his mouth opened in confusion.

"You mean the one.."

"Yeah, the one when Introduction and Rondo Capricioso was played."

(Otabek liked it, so Yuri memorized it. No big deal, right?)

"Wait.." Yuri could almost see Otabek trying to comprehend it all, which couldn´t be easy task in the middle of the night with all that vodka and everything. Finally Otabek again looked at him. "You were there _too_?" he asked.

Yuri nodded.

Otabek just shook his head and returned to walking, but waited for Yuri to join him.

"I liked classical music a lot, as a child. Especially that piece. It inspired me a lot, back when I was younger."

After a moment he turned back to Yuri and Yuri saw a glimpse of something in those dark eyes, something, that wasn´t there before.

"It´s funny.. how do you met someone," added Otabek in gentle, softer tone.

 

Finally they circled around the building and Yuri found himself in the same alley he always went to lit up a cigarette. And there, he spotted that great motorbike that has been occasionally standing there. Yuri used to admire it in silence but just now he started to saw a bigger image.

"That´s _yours_?" he breathed out and half-hoped Otabek heard the desire in his voice.

"Yeah," chuckled the older man. "My baby. Wouldn´t trade her for anything. Here you go," he tossed the spare helmet to Yuri, who caught it; surprise now probably very evident on his face.

"Where are we going?" he managed to ask after he put it on and hid his trembling hands into the pockets.

"I was thinking we can come to my place. I mean, if you want. I can play to you some of my new recordings, have plenty of place to stay and tomorrow we can go to the winter stadium and try that double salchow. How does that sounds to you, Yuri?"

Otabek smirked and beckoned his hand to the motorbike.

Yuri followed him like a ghost.

Maybe he did became one, actually.

He spend more than decade of his life rushing after something he couldn´t even describe it properly; after someone he wasn´t even sure he would meet again. He just knew he had to at least _try_. He had to grab this opportunity, to catch it firmly and never let it slip through his fingers again.

Not anymore.

 

Otabek sat in the front and in a minute the machine started to purr loudly like a big cat. Yuri sat himself behind him, still feeling very new in everything.

Otabek turned his head to the left and Yuri noticed one big dark eye looking back, directly into his own.

"Hold tight," said Otabek and grasped a twist throttle.

Few seconds after, they were already rushing down the streets with high speed, wind whizzed by Yuri´s ears. He clutched onto the jacket in front of him, feeling the mixed scent of leather, metal and something, that immediately calmed him down and allowed his heart to once again beat easily, steadily.

 

_I will._

**Author's Note:**

> Couple more notes (you can skip these if you want):  
> \- If anyone cares, just like in YOI the age difference between Yuri and Beka is 3 years  
> \- "the twist throttle" is apparently control on motorbike that adds gas (according to internet). If not, lemme know so it won´t look stupid in the fic.  
> \- Yersi is made-up name - I´m not even sure if it exists, huh, but I liked the sound of it so I use it.  
> \- I also completely randomly chose Yuri´s city of birth - didn´t have enough patience to browse all Russian minor cities at Wiki discovering whether they possess winter stadium or not.. hope you forgive me  
> \- can we all please pretend that driving a motorbike while a bit tipsy is not life-dangerous? at least for this fic? :)  
> \- The song Otabek is listening to at the concert, belongs to my favourites! You should definitely check it out - it´s amazing!  
> 


End file.
